Sticky
by Empathist
Summary: Brendan and Ste hook up, and Ste discovers Brendan's taste in jam. One-shot.


He hadn't had breakfast.

He'd gone out this morning, first thing, because there was no bread in the house. Because Cheryl and Lynsey had gone into town with some mates yesterday and ended up staying over somewhere, and hadn't got any shopping in before they went. And he'd had a late one last night, and his head was banging, and he needed some carbs to set him up for the day.

He ran over the road to Price Slice, soon as they opened. Trackie bottoms and an old T-shirt, but what the fuck, no-one was around at this early hour. Picked up a loaf, went to pay. Scruffy looking lad already ahead of him at the till, jeans hanging off his arse, the stance of a man who hadn't woken up yet.

"Morning Stephen."

The lad turned around.

"Brendan. Bit early for you innit?"

"Likewise. Here, let me." He handed over the money to the kid on the till, for his loaf of bread and for Stephen's.

"Ta. Got cereal for the kids indoors, but Ames likes a bit of toast, so..."

They left the shop together.

"Coming up?" Might as well ask: it sometimes worked. Brendan tried not to make it obvious that he was scouting around to make sure no-one was there to see them.

"What for?"

"Thought we'd do the crossword together."

"What?" The penny dropped. "Funny aren't you."

"Ain't I just. Come on, the girls are out," Brendan said, and led the way up to his place.

Stephen followed. Once they were inside, he made a bit of a show of acting like he'd just popped round for a coffee, but Brendan's fingers ran down his spine as he hovered by the kitchen counter, and the pretence was dropped, and that thing he did with his eyes, when the pupils grew and the eyelids dropped? He did that, and next thing, they were in Brendan's bedroom, on Brendan's bed, dragging the clothes off each other, grappling and grabbing and fighting for position. Stephen was feisty this morning, his hand on Brendan's wrist making him wrap his hand around his cock – as if he wasn't going to do that anyway, but Brendan let him think it was his idea, and squeezed and tugged for him, and slipped the other hand around the back of him and pushed a finger inside him and another, and the sounds that came from the boy were the biggest turn-on.

Brendan's turn. He got Stephen onto all fours, spread him, plunged in harder than he meant to, only the boy pushed back against him, wanting it, making it happen, and what was Brendan meant to do? And Stephen laughed as he shouted as he rocked and writhed, and Brendan gripped his boney hips and felt the pulse in his groin beneath his fingertips, and drank in the sight of the smooth golden skin of his back and the line of his razored hair at the nape of his neck. They both came, wildly and noisily, and disengaged stickily, and lay together, aware of each other's sweat and breathlessness, and the beating of their hearts.

Brendan must have drifted off, because he wondered for a moment where he was as he felt Stephen shifting his arm off him so he could get up.

"Where you going?"

"Toilet."

"Okay." He watched Stephen picking up his boxers. "No need for that. Girls are out, I told you."

"Oh yeah." Stephen grinned and headed naked for the door; there were hand marks and bite marks on his shoulders and buttocks and the backs of his thighs, the kinds of marks that Brendan liked to leave.

"Get us something to eat on your way back, there's a good lad."

"Like what?"

"Anything. Ain't had breakfast, have I, and I'm hungry for some reason."

"Bet you are."

"Stephen!" Brendan called after him. "Make it something quick."

Stephen returned after a few minutes, with a plate stacked with sandwiches.

"Ere y'are."

Brendan took a bite.

"What's this?"

"Jam butty innit."

"That's not... it's got -"

"Alright, Brendan, what was I meant to get, eh? You got no shopping in. Can't do miracles, me."

"It's not... it's fine, I don't care what you rustle up, but Jesus, Stephen, this ain't my jam."

"What you on about? It's from your kitchen, how can it not be your jam?"

"It's not my jar, okay? Mine's the other one. This one, it's got seeds in it. Fucksake, what am I, a budgerigar?"

"You serious?"

"There's another jar. Seedless. Fucking hell, I'll get it myself will I?"

"If you're gonna be narky then yeah, get your own bloody jam."

Brendan got up and grabbed the plate from Stephen, stomped into the kitchen, threw the sandwiches into the bin, and grabbed the bread, a knife, and the jar of seedless strawberry jam from the top shelf of the cupboard. He returned to the bedroom. Stephen was sitting on the bed, and Brendan dropped the items beside him.

"Here."

"You didn't bring a plate."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Lie down."

"What for?"

"D'you have to be so suspicious all the time? And if you're not suspicious, you're arguing. And if you're not arguing, you're trying to make me eat that stuff." He shuddered. "Seeds in jam. Fucksake. Lie down, yeah?"

Stephen shuffled up the bed and laid down on his back.

Brendan slapped a slice of bread onto his belly. Stephen laughed.

"You're mental, you."

"Hold still."

Brendan knifed a blob of jam out of the jar and onto the bread, spread it, and dropped another slice on top. The red sticky mess oozed out from the sides of the sandwich as Brendan's hand pressed down on it.

"Oi, you!"

"Oops." Brendan leaned down and took a bit of the corner of the sandwich, and then another and another, which he ate noisily. "Want some?"

He picked the remains of it up in his teeth, and trailed it up Stephen's chest towards his mouth, leaving a smear of jam along the way. Stephen opened his mouth but Brendan snatched it away and finished it in a couple of bites. Then he kissed him, pushing his sweet doughy half-chewed mouthful into Stephen's mouth with his tongue. Stephen went with it, his hands raking Brendan's hair and holding him there, their mouths a mutual mess of spit and bread and jam and tongues.

Brendan broke away, and began to lick up the jam from Stephen's torso, holding him down when he squirmed and giggled. Then he rolled away, and dipped his fingers into the jar, and pasted some jam onto his stiffening cock, then held out his hand to Stephen, and Stephen took it and sucked his fingers clean, then leaned over Brendan's body and began slowly to lick the jam off his cock. His tongue lapped like a cat's, little flicky licks that made Brendan's toes clench, and then he snuffled among his pubes, probing for every sticky drop that had disappeared among the dense brown hair. And then he ran his lips along the length, from base to tip, then opened his mouth and slid it over the head. He slurped and _Mmmmmm'd_ and sucked, and used his hands then, his palms rubbing hard on Brendan's balls, and then finally his throat opened and he eased down, and Brendan always thought it was impossible that he didn't choke, but somehow he didn't, he swallowed and breathed and arched, and Brendan came, and Stephen jolted off him and threw his head back, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and grinned in triumph.

"Good lad, ain't you? Turn over."

Stephen settled onto his stomach, peering over his shoulder as Brendan dipped his fingers into the jar again.

Brendan parted the cheeks of Stephen's arse with one hand, and with the other, streaked the jam onto him, circling and rubbing, watching Stephen's face, which was turned to the side on the pillow and had a kind of disbelief written on it. He eased a finger in through the goo, and listened to Stephen's intake of breath, and again as a second finger squeezed into his hole, and then he crouched between the boy's wide-spread thighs and kissed the small of his back, and worked his way down to his crack and began to taste the jam, smooth and sugary, and cleaned it away, and sucked it from his hole, his tongue forcing its way in, the taste a startling, earthy sweetness.

Stephen called out Brendan's name as he came.

:::::::

Brendan stripped the bed as Stephen dressed, and shoved the sheets into the washing machine.

"Your Amy'll be wondering where her breakfast is."

"Yeah. I better run."

"Yeah."

They kissed, urgent as always, never sure when or if they would ever kiss again.

"Ta for brekkie." Stephen's smile was so provocative, Brendan had to stop himself taking him again there and then, because he had to get to work.

"My pleasure."

Stephen went to the door, and turned back to Brendan.

"I won't forget."

"What's that, Stephen?"

"Seedless. I'll remember, you know, just in case."


End file.
